


That's what friends do.

by loststardust



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Drinking, F/M, I Tried, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 22:32:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9683846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loststardust/pseuds/loststardust
Summary: You and Michael have been friends for a while now. Just friends.But all it takes is one rum-filled evening, and then suddenly 'friends' feels like a very broad term.





	

Michael’s office was the first room on the right. You’d remember that for the rest of your life, you thought, considering how often you’d found yourself standing in front of it. 

This time was no different; Finn had smiled as he let you in, not bothering to ask the reason behind your visit, and you’d taken yourself to where Michael would be. The two glasses in your hand clinked against each other, threatening to drop from your grip as you walked. You prayed that they didn’t, (your other hand just as full with an unopened bottle of rum), as you turned right. 

Michael’s office. 

The door was open and propped back with a stack of books. You looked into the room, noting its usual tidiness as you leant on the doorframe, a smile rising to your lips. 

Michael sat at his desk, head down, unaware of your arrival. 

You watched him for a moment, glasses resting by your side, bottle tucked under your arm. He still hadn’t noticed you. “You working late, boss?” 

He jumped slightly, causing you to stifle a laugh, and lifted his head to you. “Christ, (y/n).” He scolded, rearranging the papers in front of him. “Most people would knock.”

“I’m not most people.” You teased, still lingering by the door. 

“What’re you doing here?” He squinted across the room to you. 

You lifted the glasses to show him, replying with a smile, “I’m bringing you an end of the week treat.”

“I’m busy, I’ll meet you later.” Michael looked back to his desk, leaving you to stare at the crown of his head. 

Typical. Business had been the only thing on his mind recently. Ever since he’d gotten his big-boy promotion, that is. You rolled your eyes. “It already is later, Michael.” Your hand dropped back to your side as you walked into the room.

“I just have to finish this.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“No, (y/n), it can’t.” He looked up again, finding you on the other side of his desk. A sigh slipped from his lips. “I want it done tonight.”

You placed the bottle and glasses onto the dark wood. “Luckily, I can wait.”

Michael leant back in his seat, lazy eyes rolling over you. “You won’t take no for an answer, will you?”

“You know me too well.” You felt a smile return to your lips. “C’mon, you’ve been working yourself too hard, Mikey.”

He watched as you twisted the bottle open, his voice low as he spoke, “It’s a busy time for us.” 

You poured the rum, filling both glasses half way with the amber liquid. “It’s a busy time for the Shelby company,” you scoffed, “not you.”

“I am a Shelby.”

“Not by name. If you were they wouldn’t use you like a-“

A sigh, followed by your name. He said it in a tone that let you know now wasn’t the time. He didn’t want to hear it. 

“Sorry,” you set the bottle down. 

Michael was quiet for a moment. You picked up one of the glasses, extending it toward him. 

He groaned. “Alright, you win.” Your face lit up as he took this glass from you. “Shut the door.”

You practically ran to the other side of the room, giddy with excitement at his decision. 

“I’d say I’ll just have one, but it’s never just one drink with you.” He spoke as you returned to the desk, taking the seat opposite. The familiar smirk grew on his face, his features warming as he looked to you, raising the glass to his lips.

“You hardly look like you’re complaining.” You lifted your own glass and took the first of many fire-filled sips. 

It didn’t take long for the alcohol to have its effect. Half the bottle had gone before he’d even bothered to ask you about your day. 

Michael had relaxed into his chair, both feet resting on the desk, one ankle on top of the other. His face was warm, cheeks rosy and smile lazy. Mission accomplished. Michael Gray, relaxing. You grinned at the sight. 

“What?” He challenged you, breaking the silence.

Somewhere between drinks three and five, you had moved to sit on top of the desk, legs hanging over the side he sat on. “Nothing, I’m just happy you’re relaxing.” The rum had lost its sting now, and slipped down your throat with ease. You put the glass down harder than needed. “Another?”

Michael nodded, holding his not-yet-empty drink out. You poured rum into both glasses.

“Let’s talk about,” you mused, “what was her name? Rosie?”

He groaned, rolling his head away from you. “Not Rosie.”

“Not Rosie-that wasn’t her name? Or not Rosie-you can’t face it?” 

“Not Rosie-why do we always have to talk about this shit?” 

“Because,” you pushed against his feet with your shoulder, “that’s what friends talk about.”

He took a drink of rum. “Okay then,” his face turned back to yours, “if that's what friends do, lets discuss your sex life.”

You stuttered, “Michael—“

“No, c’mon.” He was smirking again. “Why can’t we talk about you? We always talk about my habits, and never yours. What happened to that bloke you were seeing? The Irish one.”

“I wasn’t really seeing him.” If you weren’t already warm from the alcohol, your face would've grown hot. Michael had never shown an interest in your relationships before now. You hadn't prepared yourself for this.

“You just saw him the once, did you?” He laughed. 

You felt your face sour. “And so what if I did?”

“I didn’t take you for that sort. That’s all.”

“And what sort is that?” You barked, staring at him with harsh eyes. He’d fallen quiet, looking to his drink rather than to you. Embarrassed, you dropped down from the desk, moving to leave when his hand struck out and wrapped around your wrist. 

“I didn’t mean to—“

“Well you did.” You snapped back at him.

“No, (y/n), I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it.” He was looking up to you, holding you there, standing beside where he sat. “I’d never judge you like that.”

You bit your lip. 

“I shouldn’t have even asked,” he continued, rum infused words babbling from his mouth, “I don’t even know why I did. I guess I was jealous, maybe, I don’t know. He just seemed like such a … and I know how special you are, so seeing you—“

You kissed him. 

Before your brain had caught up with your heart, you’d kissed him. 

It was awkward, with you bent at the waist to reach his level, but it wasn’t bad.

You pulled back, your pulse racing, nothing but hot breath between your faces. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t stop.” He slurred, barely finishing the command before his lips were back on yours. 

His hands lifted to your face, pulling you closer, so that all you could do was drop sideways into his lap. He moved a hand to your thighs, holding them in place, as his other shifted to entwine into your hair. You pressed your tongue between his lips, teasing. It worked, of course, and he kissed you harder, sucking at your bottom lip. His teeth grazing your pink mouth.

Your hands moved to the back of his neck, to his hair, to his jaw…There wasn’t a place they didn’t roam. You could barely control yourself.

Breathless, he pulled himself out of the kiss. “You sure you want—“

He was silenced as your hands reached his crotch, making quick work of the fastening of his trousers. You paused to stand, before lifting your leg over his, straddling him. A determined smirk lined your lips as you pushed your hand into his trousers and under the cotton pants beneath. 

Tight breaths escaped Michael’s lips. 

You worked your hand, falling into a natural motion, up and down around his hot skin. With your free hand, you guided him to your hips. He didn’t need more than that. He scrambled with the fabric of your skirt, rolling it up your thighs, til it sat above them completely. 

“Can I?” He spoke through a moan.

“You don’t need to ask.” 

He tugged at your underwear, struggling at first, but eventually ripping it from its seams. Once he’d discarded the material, he shifted you, using both hands to bring you forward. You smiled, leaning a hand against his chest to steady yourself. 

His fingers scratched your thighs. You guided him into you. 

You cursed, relaxing into the feeling, hands gripping onto the shirt he still wore. “Michael.” You sighed his name, the sound lost beneath moans. 

He thrust into you, slowly at first, before finding a pace that sent your eyes rolling back in your head. You moved with him, soft noises escaping your throat. 

You and Michael. Fucking. 

You’d have laughed at the thought of it before this. But now all there was, was pleasure. 

Hot, drunken, pleasure. 

And you were loving every second.

**Author's Note:**

> ao3 crashed like five times when i tried to post this smh let me share my michael fic
> 
> but ye this was a request i hope you like it!!!
> 
> (i feel like i rushed the end, so i might do another chapter about what would happen after?)
> 
> tumblr: blinder-secrets


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